Set amid tall green pines and even taller rust-colored mounds of tailings, Hibbing is a town that, in one way or another, has been on the move since the late 1800s.

That's when the first rail cars full of iron ore began moving to big-city mills, where the taconite would be turned into steel for skyscrapers and automobiles.

In the early 1900s, when huge deposits of rich ore were discovered beneath Hibbing's homes, businesses and churches, the entire town began being moved 5 miles south.

And when the miners and their families needed transportation to move about Minnesota's Northwoods, the nation's first bus company was founded here in 1914.

A century ago on May 14, two young immigrants from Sweden began offering rides in a seven-passenger, 35-horsepower Hupmobile. Charging 15 cents per passenger, they made $11.50 their first day. The bus industry was born.

Fifteen years after those first journeys on the Iron Range, the company changed its name to Greyhound. An image of a sleek racing dog was adopted as its logo.

Hibbing's historic twists and turns mirror those of a shiny silver bus winding its way through the mountains. Though modern-day travelers no longer can reach the town by Greyhound — it's so off the beaten path, the route was dropped more than 40 yearsago — it's worth the nine-hour drive from Chicago. In addition to absorbing plenty of bus lore, visitors can gaze into the huge open-pit mine dubbed the "Grand Canyon of the North" and evoke the early years of Hibbing's most famous native son, Bob Dylan, before he also moved on.

"Soon the sun disappeared from view/ The stars came out like they always do/ And then I cuddled up close to you/And we both fell in love on a trip on a Greyhound Bus."

The lyrics of a Depression-era song waft through the parking lot of the Greyhound Bus Museum. Upon entering, 100 years of history unfold, most strikingly through a collection of 19 buses.

The trip down Memory Lane begins beside a 1914 Hupmobile. It's similar to the one that plied the North Country back roads and bears a replica of the original sign advertising rides between Hibbing and nearby Alice for 15 cents.

Beyond cases housing everything from tickets to drivers' uniforms to toy buses pressed from tin, there's a mock bus complete with real, two-abreast bus seats. Here, in seats that still recline, guests view a 20-minute film about the company that urged travelers to "leave the driving to us."

"Excuse me, lady. I put up a stiff fight for that seat," Clark Gable tells Claudette Colbert in a clip from the movie "It Happened One Night."

Even though Gable went on to ask Colbert to "scram," the documentary explains how the 1934 romantic comedy helped popularize intercity bus travel. Women in particular began buying tickets like never before.

Through several decades, Greyhound was raking in the cash by connecting the dots on the American map.

Moving on from the theater, visitors head into a sprawling garage where seven buses are parked. They are displayed in chronological order beginning with a still-operating 1927 model from the White Motor Co. Next to it is a restored 1936 model, one that arrived at the museum 20 years ago with all its windows broken out and a gutted interior. Farther along, there's a 1967 GMC last used by a band.

Guests are encouraged to climb aboard various vehicles, including an iconic Scenicruiser. Beginning in 1954, Greyhound built more than 1,000 of the bi-level buses, complete with onboard restrooms.

More silver hulks sit behind a chain-link fence outdoors. In various stages of restoration, they're memories of Greyhound's less-prosperous years.

By the 1970s, airlines were moving passengers from point to point much faster than buses could. A crippling strike that began in 1990 continued for three years, and along the way, Greyhound filed for bankruptcy.

Just down the street from the museum, tourists gawk at the vastness of the Hull-Rust-Mahoning Mine. With its layers of beige and red rock, it really does look like a miniature Grand Canyon. Stretching for 71/2 miles, the giant pit gobbled up the original Hibbing townsite.

"It was kind of an existential thing," local author and broadcaster Aaron Brown noted. "The mining companies said, 'The main ore we want is under the north side of your town. If you want us to stay open and keep doing this, you've got to move the town.' So they struck a deal with city leaders."

That deal included construction of the majestic Hibbing High School in the early 1920s.

Called the "castle in the woods," its centerpiece is an 1,800-seat auditorium complete with chandeliers and a massive pipe organ. A mining company footed the bill, a whopping $4 million.

Robert Zimmerman, who lived just down the street at 2425 7th Ave. East, was a member of the Class of '59. Zimmerman, called "Bobby Z," left town soon after graduation. Before long, the world knew him as Bob Dylan.

For years, Zimmy's, a diner on Hibbing's main drag, served as a Dylan shrine. It, however, closed earlier this year. Locals never warmed to Dylan like the masses did.

He left town like a complete unknown.

"The people here culturally just didn't understand what he meant to the larger world. They only remembered that weird kid Bobby Zimmerman," Brown said. "They couldn't quite see past this oddball kid who got really famous really quick after he left Hibbing."

In addition to a handful of hotels, lodging is available at the Mitchell-Tappan House (2125 4th Ave. East, 855-662-3862, mitchell-tappanhouse.com), a bed-and-breakfast in the former home of a mining superintendent.

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